The anxiety set in when I realised that the German family on my bus, dressed entirely in camouflage, leopardskin and fake fur, were going to the same place I was. A baby rave, in a nightclub, from three till six on a Sunday afternoon. Come and listen to banging techno with the kids, said my friends, it’ll be a laugh! Then I got there and the queue was already around the block, one hundred parents with their offspring, their deely-boppers and their tortured hope. It looked quite a lot like the Boden Catalogue, if all the children’s faces had been painted over by Hieronymous Bosch.